Another Set of Wings
by CanvasWonder
Summary: It is something dark, something trying to kill him; but he had fallen in love with it.
1. Chapter 1

_Another Set of Wings. Prologue._

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Falling is a gradual process for an angel, but an angel will often refuse to admit it is happening until their wings have become skeletal figures upon their backs and their grace is no more. When they may no longer fly – when they have exhausted their efforts attempting to repent for their sins-, still they will not accept that they belong to Heaven no more. They will wander the Earth for all of eternity, wailing and lost, in search of a God whose back is turned.

It was the way of the Fall, and Castiel had long since accepted the he would Fall for his sins.

He wasn't sure when he'd accepted that the Fall was coming, but when his Grace flickered and died in the midst of battle, he was not surprised; nor was he surprised to find the world peacefully still around him, the Winchester's and their Hunter friends caught in the slow crawl of a frozen time stream, surrounded by an onslaught of demons.

It wasn't a preferable time for a chat, but then again Joshua had never been known for his timing.

"Brother,"

Joshua's vessel was that of a man once called Hank, with dark skin and graying hair; his hands were rough after so long tending the Garden, his eyes light and playful despite his age. His mouth was set in a grim line.

"Brother," Castiel returned the greeting.

"I see I have approached you at an inconvenient time," Joshua's eyes roamed the still world and Castiel nodded grimly, sparing a glance to the bloody blade in his grasp.

"We were ambushed," Castiel informed his superior, wiping his blade on the arm of his coat.

"Demons will never fail to trick us," Joshua sighed, hands buried in pockets as he watched Castiel. The lesser angel stared at the blood smeared over his sleeve for a moment before meeting his superiors gaze.

"I mean no disrespect, Joshua, but if you have come, then it is to initiate my Fall and the visit is not appreciated."

"Not many will accept my mission, should they have a blade in hand." Joshua eyed the weapon distastefully, but Castiel did not set it down; though the world was still around him, he was still in the midst of battle.

"I do not often let fate run its course." Castiel agreed, "However, there are exceptions in which I believe fate must play her hand."

"You believe Falling is your fate?" Joshua arched a brow, the motion so human of an angel.

"I have sinned, and I shall not repent." Castiel sighed.

"You have sinned with good intention, Castiel, and delivering your punishment pains me."

"It is no fault of yours, Brother," Castiel promised, taking a cautious step forward. Would the initiation of the Fall hurt? Would he feel his feathers falling away; his grace, already stressed, bleeding into nothing?

"You are not meant to Fall, Castiel." Joshua extended a hand and Castiel placed his palm against his brothers. "_He_ has told me your path will be different, so different it will be."

Castiel nearly snatched his hand away in shock; his fingers twitched with the effort restraint.

"He has spoken to you?" Castiel asked quietly. Joshua squeezed Castiel's hand between both of his; the interaction was human in nature- like a father comforting his son. Odd that it should actually comfort Castiel.

"It is the first time in years that He has broken His silence," Joshua nodded.

"If He does not want to Fall… What must my punishment be?"

Joshua's hands grew heated, where they held Castiel's, and the lesser angel felt an emotion – too long spent with humans, too much influence on part of the Winchester's – similar to panic begin to bubble in his gut when Joshua maintained his silence.

Joshua; he was the one who heard God. He was good at listening, but never at speaking.

Heat ripped through Castiel, his grace igniting once more and raising like an angry tide within him; it was pressing against the inside of his vessel, trying to break free of its limits and explode in a flurry of light and sound. Castiel convulsed, Joshua's hands cupping one of his own the only thing keeping him up.

"Joshua." Castiel choked, knees digging into gravel as he fell.

"Castiel," Joshua's hands constricted around his own and Castiel gasped, his vessel giving way to the press of grace. The world around him roared back to life, the full swing of battle carrying on around them, Castiel kneeling in the midst of it as his Grace threatened to consume him.

"May God help you."

The words settled in Castiel's chest, sitting heavily as everything around him exploded with light, and the demons screamed.

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**Confused, are we? Don't worry, the next chapter will clear things up, promise!**

**Just a heads up- this fic will have... I don't want to call it mpreg, because it's really not. It's.. gracepreg, I guess? Not really pregnant at all. Just another form of a-sexual reproduction.**

**Anywho, what'd you think?**

**-CCW**


	2. Chapter One: Grace - Karate

_Another Set of Wings. Chapter One. Grace-Karate. _

* * *

Castiel was floating.

Consciousness was a distant state, tugging at the corners of his mind with irritating persistence. Despite his attempts to burrow further into the dark comfort of his mind, the drag of something cold over his forehead coaxed him towards awareness and he reluctantly pried his eyes open, only to be greeted with a harsh light.

Castiel made a pained noise, turning his head and regretting the movement as his eyes closed; his body felt itchy, and much too small. His grace was a churning mess inside him, twisting and jumping uneasily as he struggled to remember what had happened – why he ached in unfamiliar ways.

"Dean," something cold probed at his forehead again, drawing a moan of protest from Castiel. "He's awake! Cas, can you hear me? It's Sam,"

"Joshua," Castiel rasped, slowly piecing together what had happened before he passed out. Joshua's hands had been hot, his expression apologetic...

"No, Cas. It's Sam."

_May God help you_.

"Jesus, Sammy- give him some breathing room. Move- _move_." Castiel cracked his eyes open just as Dean's face moved into his line of vision, brow creased with worry. "Cas?"

"Dean." Castiel replied roughly, his vocal chords straining to produce sound. What has Joshua done to him? More importantly, how was he still alive?

"_Fuck_," Dean rasped on an exhale, his form visibly sagging forward as Castiel watched; relief. "I thought you were dead, man! What the hell _was_ that!"

"I am not sure," Castiel admitted weakly, struggling to sit up; his body didn't want to comply with the order, but luckily Sam was there to help him into a sitting position. Dean straightened up where he was kneeling on the ground beside Cas.

"You're not sure? You set off an angelic atom bomb, and you're not _sure_?" The hunter demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Castiel frowned, glancing around him; Dean was right – it looked like a bomb had gone off around them. As far as Castiel could see, the trees had been blown down, and the demons they'd been fighting were now nothing more than scattered bodies. The three other hunters they'd been working with were standing a few feet away, throwing cautious looks at Castiel over their shoulders as Sam pressed a cool towel into the angels hand and instructed him to wipe his face; that must have been what was on his forehead.

"Joshua irritated my grace," Castiel curled in on himself, knees drawn to his chest as he slowly wiped the cool rag over his over sensitized skin; the rag came away wet with blood, but he paid it no mind.

"Joshua as in angel Joshua?" Dean raised an eyebrow and Castiel nodded weakly as he passed the rag back to Sam with a whisper of thanks. The younger Winchester nodded and stood, walking towards the Impala a few feet away; all the windows were blown out of the car.

"When did you see him?" Dean questioned, watching Castiel carefully. The angel shrank under the hunters gaze. Never in the entirety of his existence had he felt so small- so weak- as he did now.

"He approached me during the battle," Castiel informed his hunter, motioning to the dead demonic vessels. "You were not aware of the interruption; he put a time-lock on our conversation."

"He couldn't have waited until you had a free moment." Dean snorted. "What did he want?"

"I had assumed he had come to initiate my Fall," Castiel sighed, massaging his temples; it was something he'd noticed Dean do in the past when attempting to get rid of a headache, or stress. And Castiel was experiencing quite a stressful headache.

"Your Fall?" Dean blinked.

"Yes, my Fall. I knew it was coming- it was simply a matter of time."

"You mean he was basically here to give you the boot into humanity?" Dean frowned, the set of mouth exposing his displeasure with the idea. Castiel nodded. "What, so… You're human now? He pissed off your grace, so it went boom, and you're human?"

"You are over simplifying a very complicated matter," Castiel sighed, cradling his throbbing head in his hands. "I am still very much angelic. I have no idea why my grace reacted in the manner it did- perhaps self defense."

"Pretty impressive grace-karate you've got there," Dean complimented as shifted in the gravel beside Castiel, reaching out a hand and brushing his thumb over Castiel's upper lip.

This was new, to Castiel- Dean's fleeting touches. It began nearly six months ago, after Castiel had helped the brothers deal with a particularly pesky poltergeist in northern Indiana; Dean was thrown into a wall, and badly injured (his spine was broken, Castiel recalled with a shudder) while Castiel watched.

It was the first time in his very long existence that Castiel could remember feeling terror, and he'd banished the poltergeist with little more than a flick of his wrist before kneeling beside Dean and healing the injury as fast as he could. Dean, shaking with relief and lingering fear, had squeezed Castiel's fingers hard enough that blood neglected to reach the digits; he'd only released when Sam came running in from the other room.

Since then, Dean had been more prone to lingering touches and meaningful stares; often Castiel would catch the older Winchester eyeing him when he was helping with a case, and when Dean realized he'd been caught he would look away with pink cheeks.

Dean's thumb dragged slowly over his upper lip, coming away bloody. Castiel frowned.

"Whatever happened, you're messed up, man." Dean sighed, slipping out of his plaid button up, exposing his bare arms to the winter chill. He wadded the over-shirt into a ball and used it to wipe at Castiel's face; the angel sat still, keeping his protests to the childish treatment silent. "You're bleeding from every freaking crack and crevice,"

"I am surprised my vessel survived the expulsion of my grace," Castiel mumbled against the cotton fabric of the shirt, his nostrils flooded with the oddly familiar scent of Dean Winchester; motor oil, pine scented deodorant, and leather.

"So am I," Dean chuckled, seeming to have decided he had gotten rid of what blood he could. "Really, Cas, I'm pretty sure you wiped out an entire forest."

Castiel followed Dean's eyes as they roamed the flattened trees surrounding the clearing, and he couldn't help but agree with the statement.

"Dean? We should go before the feds show up or something," Sam's voice sounded and Cas glanced up to find the younger Winchester towering over them. Dean grunted – an agreeable noise – as he climbed to his feet and wiped gravel dust off his pants.

"Yeah, I'll get everyone rounded up," He muttered as he marched off in the direction of the small clique of hunters a few feet away, whistling to get their attention.

"How you feeling Cas?" Sam wondered, extending a hand in offer to the angel; Castiel was ashamed to realize he needed the help up as he wobbled unsteadily on his feet.

Castiel felt wrong.

The world was spinning around him in a blur of activity and sound, and his stomach was churning sickly – odd considering he could usually ignore his vessels needs entirely – every time he moved. His grace was a ball of activity within him, twisting itself into uneasy knots and slamming into the wall of his vessel with all its force; trying to escape.

His own grace was trying to flee its vessel, and he didn't know why.

"I'm fine," Castiel delivered the customary Winchester response with ease, pulling his coat closed around himself; an odd form of comfort that Jimmy Novak used to ritually perform, when he inhabited this body.

Hyper aware of Sam's eyes on his back, Castiel made his way to the Impala and folded himself into the back seat; he would not risk flying, not when his grace was so unsettled.

After a brief chat with the other hunters, Sam and Dean climbed into their respective spots in the car. Dean cast a questioning look at the angel in the back seat.

"Hopping a ride, Cas?" He questioned. Castiel nodded.

It was hard to ignore Dean's worried stare as they drove away, but Castiel did his best.

* * *

**I know things are moving sort of fast right now, but they will slow down. This is the kind of story that throws you right into the middle of things, so... Woop. **

**Also, we will be seeing our favorite Trickster next chapter, and he will explain why Cas' "grace went boom."**

**-CCW**


	3. Chapter Two: Humanity

_Another Set of Wings: Chapter Two: Humanity_

* * *

Castiel abhorred human methods of transport. The speed of travel was sickeningly slow, and the ache to fly was almost physical as he shifted restlessly in his seat. Dean was fiddling with the stereo, trading out the _Metallica_ cassette for something new by a band called _Def Leppard_. He sang along obnoxiously loud – and off key -, his thumbs following the pattern of the drums on the steering wheel. Despite Sam's annoyed expression, Castiel decided he liked Dean's singing; it was strangely endearing, watching the hunter fight off a grin as he wailed along with the music.

Castiel tore his eyes away from his companions to look out what should have been a window; there was no glass left anywhere in the Impala, though, thanks to his explosion earlier in the day. The wind whipped through the car with stinging strength, but none of the three passengers seemed to be bothered by it.

In little over an hour, they had managed to cover only ninety miles. The sun was dipping below the horizon, and there was nothing but crop fields as far as the eye could see.

Castiel could have circled the globe in three minutes and forty two seconds, if he was flying.

Sighing, Castiel curled in on himself, drawing his knees to his chest in a human gesture of weakness. Though the nausea and dizziness had subsided enough to allow for clear thought, his grace was still behaving entirely out of the normal; twisting, turning, rolling- his whole body was humming, vibrating as the tension under his skin tried to split his vessel open and spill out.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn't catch the snapping-flutter of wings over the wind.

Castiel barely had time to retrieve his blade from within his coat and issue a gruff "Dean" before a body dropped down in the seat beside him and Dean slammed on the breaks, sending the Impala into a skidding stop in the center of the high way. Castiel's blade was against the neck of the new occupant of the car, his hand fisted in the strangers coat sleeve, before the car had come to a complete stop.

"Hello to you, too, little brother."

Gabriel raised his head to avoid a nick on the chin from Castiel's blade, hands slowly rising in a motion of surrender. He arched one golden brow, eyes flickering from Castiel's blade to his face. Something akin to affection – and surprise – fluttered in Castiel's chest.

"It is not wise to drop in unannounced," Castiel scolded, lowering his weapon and tucking it back in his coat once more. Gabriel visibly relaxed, hands dropping on to the leather seat at his sides.

"Well, you don't exactly have an open channel," He said, emphasizing his point with a flick to Castiel's temple before leaning forward, grinning at the humans in the front seat. "Boys. How goes the Anti-Apocalypse club?"

"You're supposed to be _dead_." Sam blanched, staring at Gabriel with a mix of fury and surprise.

"I'm supposed to be a lot of things, big boy." Gabriel winked, ruffling Sam's hair as he turned to Dean. "Why so quiet, Dean-O?"

Dean said nothing, jaw ticking as he narrowed his eyes at Gabriel.

"_Ok-ay_," Gabriel rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. "While you work on your impression of Castiel, I'm going to have a chat with our dear little angel."

Dean choked out a sound of objection, turning in his seat to grab a hold of Gabriel, but his fingers had barely brushed the hem of Gabriel's shirt before the arch-angel's wings snapped open, and he dragged Castiel away from the car with him.

Castiel's wings opened on instinct, catching the air between powerful feathers, and he sighed in relief when the churning mess of his grace did nothing to affect his flight; Gabriel shot forward at alarming speed in front of him, and Castiel followed until the archangel dropped gracefully on to a suburban street. His own landing was far less attractive than usual, and ended with a stumble and a sick roll of his stomach.

Gabriel gave him a pitying look, but made no comment.

"Finland?" Castiel stated, glancing at Gabriel as the arch-angel motioned him to follow.

"Finland." Gabriel confirmed, burying his hands in his pockets as they strolled down the sidewalk.

It was nearing two in the morning, a stark difference to the setting sun in Illinois where Castiel had been with the Winchesters a moment ago, and the moon was a quiet presence over their heads. The small city around them slept, only the occasional late-night bypasser drifting past them in the shadowed streets.

"I am not displeased to see you are alive and healthy, Gabriel," Castiel glanced at his companion. "But what has brought you out of hiding?"

Gabriel chuckled softly, so very natural in his human behaviors; the way he scratched at his stubbled jaw, and avoided eye-contact. It was no surprise he was able to hide amongst humans for as long as he had.

"Seems every time I'm trying to lay low, you go and shoot yourself in the foot." Gabriel shook his head as he stopped in front of a small yellow-painted building, opening the door and motioning Castiel inside.

"I have not… Shot myself," Castiel frowned as he moved in through the opened door, waiting for Gabriel to follow him.

"Not literally," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I mean that you've got yourself in one hell of a pickle, and I can't expect the Winchesters to look after you, cause they never do."

"Sam and Dean do not need to look after me," Castiel shot Gabriel a dark look as the pair ascended a set of stairs, and arrived in a cozy living room.

Though small, the room was decorated to look spacious; plenty of mirrors, and rich colors. There was a kitchenette in the far corner, and Gabriel rushed to attend to a pot of boiling liquid as Castiel eyed the space.

"You have been hiding in Finland?" He glanced at Gabriel, surprised that no one had been able to trace him.

"Not my usual hustle-and-bustle scene, little brother," Gabriel shrugged as he carried the still-boiling water to the sink and drained it into a strange plastic container with holes in the bottom. "Everyone's looking for me either in the big cities, or the middle of nowhere; so I settled for something in between."

"Hiding in plain sight," Castiel nodded, lowering himself into one of the plush leather chairs in the room; the cushions gave under his weight, and he found himself oddly weary as he leaned back into the furniture's embrace.

"Exactly," Gabriel jerked a spoon in Castiel's direction before using it to scrape the last remnants of what appeared to be pasta out of the now empty bowl. "There is no better way to outsmart angels than human behavior,"

Castiel settled in, watching as Gabriel dumped a pile of pasta on a plate and dribbled some white-sauce on it, topping the whole thing with a handful of mushrooms.

"You need to remember that, Castiel; it's valuable information."

Castiel frowned as Gabriel took a seat in the chair across from him, balancing his plate on his lap and working on wrapping a fair amount of pasta around his fork.

"Gabriel, is there something you need to tell me?" He watched as the arch-angel chewed for a time before swallowing.

"I'm just trying to get you ready for what's coming," Gabriel stood, leaving his plate on the arm of his chair as he returned the kitchen to retrieve a salt shaker.

"The Apocalypse will not happen." Castiel spoke with conviction, nearly snarling as Gabriel returned to his seat.

"I'm not talking about the Apocalypse, little brother," Gabriel tipped the shaker, tiny white particles of salt falling atop his pasta before he set the shaker aside and used his fork to mix the salt in with the food. Castiel's already unstable stomach rolled twice before settling.

"Is there a more pressing crisis to be dealt with?" Castiel leaned forward in his chair, watching as Gabriel took his time in twirling the pasta around his fork, studying it as he spoke.

"A few, actually," The arch-angel brought the fork to his mouth, speaking now around a mouthful of food. "My foremost concern is keeping you alive, though. Only Dad knows how far off the reserve Dean might go with you gone."

"I have done well to survive, Gabriel." Castiel frowned, giving his brother a belligerent stare. It wasn't a lie; he was usually very good at protecting himself, and the humans in his charge. The situation with Joshua would be detrimental to his ability to protect the boys, once the Fall began, but for now he would go on as if nothing had changed. "I mean no disrespect, but your help is hardly necessary."

"You're wrong," Gabriel sighed, setting the plate aside and shifting in his chair to tuck his legs underneath himself, his eyes roaming Castiel's face in silence for awhile before he spoke. "Castiel, you are in severe danger… You need to forget about the Winchester's for a bit, and think about yourself. Don't tell me you can't feel your grace doing a circus act, little brother."

Castiel stiffened, hands clenching into fists by his sides.

"My grace is fine."

"Is that why you went atom bomb, earlier today?" Gabriel scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Castiel, every angel on the planet could feel that explosion… I've been trying to keep the blood-hounds off your scent all afternoon."

"It was involuntary," Castiel promised. "My grace was protesting the initiation of my Fall."

"Your _Fall_?" Gabriel laughed harshly, shaking his head. "You are not Falling, little brother. Far from it."

Castiel blinked, searching the arch-angels face for any signs of deception; there was nothing but concerned honesty in Gabriel's open expression.

"That is… Impossible. Joshua came to me, he-" Castiel began but Gabriel cut him off with a sharp look.

"Joshua can be a pretty cryptic asshole," Gabriel accused. "He really didn't tell you what he did to you?"

"No."

"Did he say _anything_ to you?" Gabriel demanded. "Anything that seemed out of the ordinary?"

"No," Castiel hesitated, Joshua's heavy voice floating in the back of his mind. "Well… Yes. Before he touched my vessel, he said 'May God help you,'" Gabriel nodded gravely at the new information, rubbing his jaw as he stared thoughtfully at his shoes.

"Castiel, you need to listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you." Gabriel sighed, eyes meeting his brothers as he leaned forward in his chair and propped his elbows on his knees. "There's nothing good about what I have to say, and I doubt your reaction will be much more pleasant, but… Just hear me out before you go flapping off, alright?"

Castiel nodded at him to continue.

"When Joshua touched you, he gave you something Heaven's taken to calling a _severance divisor_… He basically put a parasite in your grace, Castiel; you turned the woods into Hiroshima because your grace was trying to expel the thing before it could latch on. Didn't work, but it was a valiant effort."

Gabriel rubbed his hands together, seeming at loss for words, and Castiel was acutely aware of the ugly churning of his grace. He suddenly felt repulsion for his very life-force; how could it have failed to expel the parasite?

"What will the parasite do to me?" Castiel demanded through gritted teeth.

"It will kill you," Gabriel stated bluntly. "It will use your grace to feed itself, sort of like a human infant feeds from its mother. Instead of breaking away with its own vessel, though, it will consume your grace entirely- it will become you, and _you_ – what you are now - will no longer exist."

Castiel stared at Gabriel, waiting for something more; some secret information that would help him survive, or a punch-line for this awful joke. Instead, Gabriel retrieved his pasta and swallowed another bite.

"Congratulations, it's a bouncing baby death trap."

Castiel stood, the need to move overcoming him as he began to pace a slow circle around the room. Gabriel watched, wiping a bit of white sauce away from his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

"How long until the process is complete?" Castiel wondered aloud.

"You've got eight months at the most… As many angels as you've got on your tail – and as weak as that bugger will make you…. I'd give you four."

"I only have four months to halt the end of days," Castiel worried, running his fingers through his hair in a habit he vaguely recalled he'd picked up from Dean. "If I do not succeed, the Winchesters will have no guidance… No protection. They will be open to attack at every turn, they will-"

"You're _dying_, and all you're worried about is the Winchesters?" Gabriel glared from his chair, fork poised half-way to his lips. "Have a little concern for yourself for once, Castiel! You're not under Heaven's rules anymore- you're allowed to put yourself before your duties. You may not be human, but you can at least think like one."

"My life is miniscule in comparison to the thousands that will be lost, should Lucifer rise! Besides, you hardly seem concerned, brother; you are more interested in your meal than my survival." Castiel barked in reply, tensing. Gabriel's expression darkened and he sank further into his chair, saying nothing as he shoveled another mouthful and chewed slowly.

Castiel slowly relaxed, eyes falling to the ground in a display of apology and submission as he returned to his chair across from Gabriel. The arch-angel said nothing, simply watching as Castiel settled in.

"Why do you eat at such a time, Gabriel? You do not need the sustenance," Castiel questioned, voice surprisingly small in the wake of his brothers disapproving stare.

Gabriel gave no answer; instead, he slowly rose from his seat and stood. Castiel watched as he crossed the room to the small kitchenette and retrieved a clean bowl- filling it with pasta, sauce, and mushrooms- before he turned and moved towards Castiel.

"I need the humanity, sometimes; helps me remember why I gave Heaven up." He held the bowl out towards Castiel, expression grave as the smaller angel took the offering. "With all the shit you're about to go through… You could do with a reminder, too."

* * *

**So, Gabriel will now be a part of the story- I hope to throw him in every chapter from now on, but we'll see! Anyways, this sort of cleared up what exactly is going on with Cas.**

**Hope everyone liked it!**

**-CCW**


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